Chapter Text
Aizawa Shouta is sitting in the teacher’s lounge, hunched over his laptop and reviewing his lesson plans for the week when a manila folder lands next to him.
He lazily casts a glance to the area the folder came from, only to see Nedzu.
The principal's paws are crossed politely in front of him, contradicting the crazed smile he displays. The animal’s eyes scan the man expectantly.
“And this is…?” Shouta deadpans, leaning back against his chair.
“A case,” the animal chirps happily, “You’ve been requested directly.”
Shouta frowns, pinching in between his eyebrows, “Tsukauchi?”
And God, he’s already getting a headache at the thought of extra hero work piling on top of dealing with the hell-bent class he has this year.
“Yes, and he seemed quite desperate for this one.”
That’s never a good sign.
“Alright, I’ll give him a call,” the tired man packs up the rest of his belongings in his small bag.
He can look at the file later, he really needs a change in scenery. And right now he just wants nothing more than to be sitting in the comfort of his own home.
People might be more likely to leave him the fuck alone if he isn’t sitting at school.
He’s grateful for his decision when his husband doesn’t hesitate to greet him as soon as he steps through the threshold of their shared apartment.
“Welcome home, Shou,” Hizashi whispers with a light kiss, already being able to tell that his partner is more stressed than usual, “Long day?”
“Tsukauchi needs help with a case,” Shouta bumps his head against the other man’s shoulder. His nose is tickled by the blond hair that’s been brushed free of stiffening products.
He feels thin fingers running through his own tangled hair, “What case?”
“Not sure yet. I brought it home with me,” he steps away, already missing the warmth of his husband.
Dragging his feet into their small living room, he collapses on the couch and drops the ominous manila folder on the coffee table. Attempting to gather himself before diving into the unfortunate circumstance of some random civilian.
“Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee,” Hizashi calls from the kitchen.
Shouta hums in acknowledgment, as he hides a small smile that crosses his face — silently appreciating everything his partner does for him.
Alright, no more putting this off.
He gently nudges their cat Fuck Bucket, Bucky for short, off the papers that he’s already claimed as his new bed. Shouta leans forward, dropping his elbows on his knees, as he flips open the file and scans over the limited information.
A missing child report?
This really can’t be good if they’re asking Shouta, someone who doesn’t handle children very well, for help.
Midoriya Izuku. Age twelve. Last seen Thursday morning, wearing his school uniform, when he came over to his friend’s house so the two kids could walk to school together. He never returned that night.
Shouta’s stomach rises to his throat.
Thursday morning?
It’s now Tuesday night. This kid has been missing for five days — 132 hours minimum.
Every officer and pro hero that has any common fucking sense knows that once the child has been missing over 48 hours, the chances of finding them unharmed (or at all) are slim to none.
This is bad.
Why did they wait so long before contacting him about this?
His eyes scan to the right corner of the report where a photo of the child has been attached.
He has green curly hair and matching sparkling eyes. A wide toothy grin covers his face, so blinding that it’s almost difficult to continue looking at the photo without squinting. A large number of freckles are splashed on his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.
The child doesn’t even look like he can hurt a fly and if he did, he looks like he would just apologize profusely. The mere thought of someone taking and harming him makes Shouta sick to his stomach.
Without looking at the rest of the information, he calls Tsukauchi.
“Hey Eraser,” a tired voice answers, “have you looked at the file?”
“Briefly. What else do you have for me?” Shouta leans back against the couch as Hizashi enters with two bowls of hot food. Setting them down near the papers before leaving the room again.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid,” the man sounds like he hasn’t slept in days, and knowing him — he hasn’t. “The Bakugous, the family friends little Midoriya usually walked to school with, are the ones that reported him missing. They haven’t the slightest clue where the kid could be.”
“Family friends reported him? What about the Midoriya family?” Shouta questions as Hizashi comes back into the room with a cup of coffee, gently passing it into his open hand.
“Looks like his mother died a few months ago, she was caught up in some collateral damage of a villain attack. His father hasn’t been around in years.”
“So where the fuck does the kid live?” Shouta chokes on his coffee, receiving a concerned glance from the blond man sitting next to him.
“The Bakugous aren’t sure, they said Midoriya sometimes spends the night with them. But they only recently found out his mother died.”
“Christ,” Shouta pinches his nose, watching as Hizashi hunches over to get a better look at the file, “I’m guessing you’ve spoken to them already?”
“Yeah, we—”
“I want to talk to them.”
“Eraser—”
“You asked me to be on this case, Tsukauchi. I would like to start at the beginning. Just to make sure nothing has been missed.”
“Fine,” the man on the other side of the line clears his throat, “But they said that the kid is an angel, they can’t figure out who would have done something to him.”
“Some people can have really sick motives, unfortunately.”
Tsukauchi doesn’t respond immediately, the two men sitting in the heavy silence as the dreaded information sinks in.
“I’ll call the family,” the detective breaks the silence, “Tell them that you’re coming to speak with them.”
Shouta only grunts in acknowledgment, ready to hang up to see if he can find any more loopholes in the paperwork.
“Shouta?” the man jumps at the use of his civilian name, “The child is quirkless.”
God fucking—
“We’re going to find him,” Hizashi states with grit in his tone, papers crinkling in his hands.
It’s really dark now.
It’s dark and it’s getting colder by the second.
Izuku jumps as he hears the small door slam behind the unexpected visitor and he can do nothing but stare in disbelief.
The frightened boy guesses he made them really upset, he can’t even think of what he would have done to get placed in here this time. He had made sure to keep his mouth shut during class, he kept to himself and never questioned the activities that were given to him.
He wonders how much longer they’re going to keep him here.
He thinks it’s going to be a while since the person turned off the only source of light, they never turn the light off while he’s in here. Then again, he never gets visitors while he’s kept here either. Usually, if someone does show up, it’s to let him out.
But not this time. He’s not even sure how long he’s been in here already.
Wherever ‘here’ is.
It’s nearly impossible to tell them where they keep him, considering they never really gave him a tour before shoving him away.
He tries to look back down at the notebook that he was writing in before the person came in, but since they left and turned all the lights off, Izuku can hardly see his hand in front of him.
Groaning, he closes the small book, knowing that he won’t be able to work anymore. It was the only thing that was able to keep him busy, and now he’s got nothing to do but sit with his thoughts.
That isn’t something the boy is fond of doing.
He cautiously crawls over to get a look at what the person left behind for him: an extra bottle of water and a small, half-empty bento box.
Izuku’s stomach growls at the thought of food, but he knows he won’t be able to eat it. He can’t eat solid foods right now.
His nose crinkles, wanting nothing more than to stuff himself until he can’t breathe, but sharp pains flare up around the boy’s mouth. A silent reminder that he shouldn’t try to move it too much more. He whimpers as he feels a cold liquid run into his mouth that tastes strangely metallic.
He gently takes the water bottle, pouring a small amount in his cupped hand and smoothing it around his mouth. The pain and sting are worse than it has ever been, but maybe the chilled water will stop him from tasting blood all the time.
Not bothering to even look in the bento box, Izuku pulls his knees to his chest as he begins to shiver, wishing that the floor would swallow him whole. Wishing that his mom, Kacchan, or someone would burst through the small door to take him home and promise that he never has to come back.
He doesn’t want to sit in the dark and he doesn’t want to feel alone anymore. He wants someone to hold him, to make him feel warm and safe. Someone to care for his wounds, mental and physical.
He wants someone who won’t call him useless, a waste of time and space, a good-for-nothing nobody.
He wants someone to save him.
Aizawa Shouta finds himself standing in front of the Bakugous’ house the following evening after a long day of training with his students. Hands stuffed in his pockets and his chin tucked in his capture weapon. Praying to the heavens that he gets some answers.
Midoriya Izuku, missing for 150 hours.
Walking up to the door, he gently knocks a few times before stepping back. He can already tell that his family is going to be a chaotic nightmare, judging by the loud voices he can already hear.
The door gets ripped open, but to his surprise, he has to look down to greet a child. This must be the friend Midoriya walks to school with.
“Who the hell are you?” The light blond kid yells up at him, red eyes shining in rebellion.
Shouta has to hold everything back not to drop kick this demon.
“A pro hero,” he deadpans.
“You don’t look like a pro hero,” the kid eyes him up and down.
‘And you don’t look like a soccer ball, but I bet I could punt you real far,’ but Shouta decides to keep that to himself.
“Katsuki! What did I tell you about opening the door?” A woman with identical hair and eyes appears behind the child, hands on her hips.
“It’s just a hobo man, mom,” he rolls his eyes and stomps away, leaving her to shout curse words at his retreating back.
Turning back to Shouta, she changes her demeanor completely, “Sorry about Katsuki, he can be a handful sometimes. What can I do for you, sir?”
Shouta pulls out his hero license and flashes it, “I’m Eraserhead, I’m here to ask you some questions about the disappearance of Midoriya Izuku.”
She eyes his card heavily and plasters a weak smile on her face, “Ah yes, Detective Tsukauchi said you’d be by today. Please come in.”
She closes the door loudly behind him and makes her way into the adjacent living room, “We’ve already spoken to the police, but things must be getting serious if they pulled a hero onto the case.”
“We’re just taking precautions.”
“Of course. Please, have a seat,” she perches herself on a loveseat across from a larger couch.
Shouta lowers himself on the sofa, placing a recorder on the table between them. Stating his name, and beckoning for the woman to do the same, before jumping into questions before wasting too much more time, “So the last time you saw Midoriya was Thursday morning?”
She nods, “He always comes over in the mornings so he and Katsuki can walk to school together. The two have known each other for years because Izuku and his mother have always lived a few streets over.”
“What alarmed you to file that he was missing?”
“Katsuki came home late from school that night, saying that he looked all over the school for Izuku and couldn’t find him. Izuku is never late, he follows his schedule to the dot so we were worried something happened,” she winces as she hears a loud thud and shouts come from upstairs.
“But you were unaware that his mother passed away four months ago?”
Mitsuki looks down at her hands, “Yes. Inko and I haven’t spoken a lot since Izuku was diagnosed as Quirkless, I didn’t think much of not seeing her around and Izu never mentioned it before.”
“When did you find out?”
“I tried to call her when Katsuki came home without little Izuku and couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t answering. After I called the police and they started to investigate did they tell me that she died,” she brings a hand to her mouth like she’s trying to force down her bubbling emotions.
Shouta gives her a moment before she speaks again in a small whisper, “I had no idea. I- I don’t even know where Izuku was staying when he wasn't with us.
“Don’t push yourself,” the man offers gently, “We’re going to do everything we can. We’re going to fix this.”
She nods repeatedly, folding her hands and resting her chin on them. Taking a deep breath, “I’m ready to continue.”
Shouta clears his throat, pausing for a beat, “What do you know of the boy’s father?”
“Not much,” she doesn’t hesitate, “He left years ago. We’re not even sure who he is, Inko never tried to speak of him.”
“Not even a name or an appearance?”
“None.”
“Right,” the man files that away in his head, they really need to find out who this man is, “Do you know how Izuku is at school?”
“Oh, he’s a bright kid,” the first real smile he’d seen from her, “Incredibly smart, but doesn’t always apply himself to his work for some reason.”
An angel of a child who is academically brilliant holds tightly to his own schedule. So why would he be hesitant to apply himself to his work?
“Did he have trouble making friends?”
“I don’t think so. The kid is like sugar on wheels, the sweetest one around. I don’t see why he wouldn’t have friends.”
Shouta instantly jumps at this comment, “But you’re unsure you can prove that.”
Mitsuki bites her lip, “I don’t know much about Izuku’s personal life other than being friends with Katsuki. I don’t know who talks to him at school and who doesn’t. But I see no reason for the other kids to dislike him.”
Something about that doesn’t sit right with the man, alarm bells ringing loudly in his head.
“Would you mind if I spoke to your son about this? He might know a little more about Izuku’s friends.”
“Of course,” she bolts up from her seat as if she had never thought of the idea before.
Minutes later the woman returns with her soccer ball demon son in tow who doesn’t look too happy. He plops himself unceremoniously on the floor in front of his mother, giving Shouta an ugly snarl.
“Now be nice and answer the hero’s questions truthfully,” she nudges her son with her foot.
“Yeah, yeah. Ask me whatever you wanted to hobo man, I was in the middle of playing video games,” he crosses his little arms and sends him a hard glare.
Yeah, Shouta would score a huge goal with this kid.
“So you’re friends with Izuku, is that right?”
“Yeah, Deku and I are best friends.”
“Deku?” Shouta breaks his professional front at the sudden change of names, “Why do you call him Deku?”
“When I say it, it isn’t mean.”
“When you say it?” Shouta echos, still in confusion.
“When the other kids say it, it makes Deku cry.”
“What else do the other kids say to Izuku?”
“They like to pick on him,” Katsuki answers bluntly like he isn’t bothered that his best friend gets bullied at school.
Shouta knew something wasn’t right, “Do you ever stop them?”
“No,” the kid rolls his eyes.
“Why not?”
“Deku says he doesn’t like it when I try to get involved. Says my quirk is too awesome to use against the other kids, like a villain would. I told him that he was being stupid, that I was trying to be a hero and protect him but he’s happier when I stay out of it.”
“Is that why you two walk to school together? So you can try and protect him?”
“We walk home together too, I try to keep Deku out of trouble and make sure he doesn’t get too beat up when I’m around.”
“So what happened the last time you saw Izuku?”
“I walked him to his classroom like I did every day, the teacher said he wanted to talk to Deku and sent me away. By the time school was over, I couldn’t find him.”
Shouta hums, wanting to wrap this up so he can further analyze the conversation, “Is there anything else weird that you would like to tell me before I leave?”
“Well, sometimes I can’t find him at lunch or in class, but he always shows up at the end of the day.”
“Thank you Katsuki,” he turns to Mitsuki, who has a look of defeat on her face like she pieced together the same puzzle he just did, “Anything else you would like to add or ask?”
“Please,” her red eyes full of emotion, “Find Izuku.”
“I will do everything I can.”
“You better, hobo man.”
“We need to speak with the teachers, Tsukauchi,” Shouta clinches his hands in his pockets to resist tearing apart the unattentive man’s office.
154 hours.
Midoriya Izuku has been missing for 154 hours now.
Shouta had immediately left the Bakugou’s house and stormed over to the precinct and demanded to see the overworked detective. Slamming the recorder down and playing back the conversation he had with Katsuki.
He didn’t want to waste any time or information that could be helpful.
Every second that passes, is a second wasted trying to find him.
“We already have, Eraserhead,” the detective sighs, not even giving him a second glance.
“I want to do it again.”
“Look, I know I asked you to be on this case. But I did that so you could find other answers, not retrace the ones that have already been done.”
“I’m finding more answers than you already had! I got new information out of the Bakugou brat and I think we need to revisit the school!”
“The school was already uncooperative the first time we spoke to them, what makes you think they’re going to want to do it again?”
“I don’t care what the hell they want, it’s all the more reason to get back in there.”
Tsukauchi leans back in his chair, finally giving Shouta his full attention, “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
“Yet, you asked for me specifically,” he buries his chin farther into his capture weapon and gives the man a blank look.
The man swings himself in his office chair, a smile breaking onto his face, “Fine. I’ll tell them you want to speak with them. But if they don’t agree—”
“Yes, I know. I burn the building to the ground.”
“I’m glad we can finally agree on something.”
“I understand that you’re a pro hero, sir, but as I said, we have already told the police everything we know,” the stout principal of Aldera Middle School huffs while sitting like an entitled bastard in his office chair.
His round face is glistening with sweat, from nerves or the heat of the room — Shouta doesn’t know, nor does he care. But he will make this man stand in a puddle of himself once they're done with this conversation.
“And I understand that you’ve spoken to the police, but this is in my hands now and I would like you to answer my questions,” Shouta’s eyes flash dangerously between red and black.
Tsukauchi wasn’t kidding when he said the school was going to put up a fight, but the underground pro hero has been through much worse.
“I don’t really think that’s necessary,” the man turns his nose up.
“I think it’s unnecessary that you’re putting up a fight when one of your own students has been missing for one hundred and sixty-one hours now,” Shouta watches as the poorly placed toupee slips further out of place.
Midoriya Izuku has been missing for a little under a week now, and judging from the response he’s getting from the teachers, they must have information about where the child is.
There would be no other reason that the school would be reacting this way if there wasn’t something else going on.
“One quirkless kid that should not be causing this much of a ruckus,” the arrogant male crosses his arms and gives the pro hero a pointed look.
“A kid that was last seen under your care. So you can either answer a few questions for me, or I can go to the station and get a warrant to shut your school down.”
Shouta almost trips up on his threat. He hasn’t the faintest idea if he can follow through and shut the school down, but the principal doesn’t need to know that.
The man in question seems to lose his adamant hold for a second, before toughening back up. Shouta hides a shit-eating grin, he’s slowly breaking him.
“Midoriya’s homeroom teacher is unavailable at the moment, so I’m afraid you’re wasting your time,” he tries once again to wave the hero off.
“So call them into this office or I will go to the classroom and drag them in here myself,” Shouta grits between his teeth, “And you don’t want me to make a scene in front of the rest of your staff, now would you?”
The man’s eyes widen as Shouta’s words finally sink in. He hastily pushes himself up in his chair, nearly knocking it over, “There is no need for all of that, I’ll alert Morinozuka that you wish to speak with him.”
“Before you leave, I would like you to pull up the security footage from Thursday. I wish to review it.”
“I don’t—”
Shouta cuts the principal off, flashing the use of his quirk. He can feel the ends of his hair begin to float off his shoulders and the drawback sting in his eyes.
Without another word, the man begins typing and clicking around on the computer. Shouta notes that he’s sweating nervously now.
Good, he should be afraid of Shouta.
Once he’s done, the principal rushes out of the room to retrieve Morinozuka. Shouta doesn’t like sending the man alone to fetch the teacher, who knows the story they could come up with on the way here, but he isn’t particularly worried about it.
Instead, he sits on the principal's desk, turns the computer to face him, and clicks play on the footage that has been brought up. It doesn’t take long for him to spot the small green-haired child walking timidly next to a seething Katsuki.
The blond soccer ball seems to be yelling at anyone who steps too close to him, sparking his hands with his quirk.
That kid is going to need some serious work if he ever wants to be a hero.
Shouta watches the two boys enter the school once Izuku tugs Katsuki away from a growing crowd. He tries to switch camera angles, only to come up with nothing.
Do these people not have cameras stationed all over the school?
That thought makes the alarm bells in the man’s head ring even louder. Who knows the awful things that could be happening behind closed doors here.
On top of the potential harm they are causing Izuku, this school needs to be shut down for various other reasons.
Shouta fast forwards the footage to the end of the day. Waiting not so patiently as he watches a flood of children exit, but not spotting the familiar kids.
It’s not until a while later that Katsuki steps out, looking quite frantic — like he can’t find something. Or someone , Shouta’s mind supplies.
The blond kid spins in several circles, seeming as if he’s screaming a person’s name. He hesitates a beat before taking off and running out of frame from the camera.
The hero bounces to another entrance to the school, looking for any proof of the small head of green hair at the end of the day. Dread settles in his stomach when he doesn't see him leave through any other doors of the school.
Midoriya Izuku never left the school.
Shouta clears his throat as two people enter back into the office.
“Do you not have cameras stationed in the school halls?” he questions the principal harshly, hopping down from the desk.
The man stiffens and hesitates, “It would have cost too much to get that many cameras installed, we only see the entrances and exits.”
“This is all the footage you have then?” Shouta is unimpressed, but not surprised, judging by the poor condition of the facility in the first place.
“Fine,” he sighs as the man nods, “Now give Morinozuka and me a minute will you?”
He doesn’t leave room for the principal to respond before he slams the door to the office in his face, “Have a seat Morinozuka.”
“What’s this all about huh? I was busy,” the teacher holds himself like Shouta is beneath him. The pro hero immediately wants to curb stomp him.
“I wanted to ask about the disappearance of Midoriya Izuku, a student in your homeroom,” the hero perches himself back on the principal’s desk.
“The quirkless kid,” Morinozuka rolls his eyes, his long chin jutting into the air.
There’s that word again: quirkless .
Why do these people feel the continuous need to insert the word onto the child like he could have controlled his own biology? Like Midoriya should have tried harder in having two joints in his pinky toe instead of one.
Why are they saying it like the boy is cursed?
“You are aware that he has been missing for almost a week now, correct?”
Morinozuka simply shrugs his shoulders.
“And he was last seen when Bakugou Katsuki walked him to your room Thursday morning. Bakugou stated that you said you wanted to speak to Midoriya, is that true?”
“I don’t know, I talk to students all the time. Why should I remember speaking to him specifically?” He holds determined eye contact with Shouta, standing behind his blatant lie.
“What did you speak to Midoriya about?”
“Probably some homework assignment.”
Another lie.
“Where did Midoriya go after you finished speaking to him?”
“To class.”
The principal must have trained Morinozuka well on the short walk through the school, he’s staying as tight-lipped as he can.
“Did he attend all of his classes on Thursday?”
“Of course.”
This man really has a death wish.
This is going well for Shouta.
He just needs one more answer.
“Where did Midoriya go after school let out?”
The teacher shrugs again, “How should I know, do I need to keep that close of tabs on all my students? He probably went home.”
It isn’t missed when Morinozuka looks up at the underground hero, a certain glint in his eyes and a small smirk appearing on his mouth.
“Thank you for your time,” he doesn’t stop the other man as he gets up, stalking towards the door.
“Let us know if you find the quirkless kid, you know we’re all dying to make sure he’s safe,” Morinozuka throws over his shoulder and swiftly exits the room.
Shouta runs a hand down his face. That actually went better than he expected, he didn’t think the teacher would hand out his lies like free candy.
Nothing he said lines up with the information Katsuki had given him, but he knows that isn’t going to be enough to go after the teacher. A child’s word against an adult? Yeah, that’s never going to happen.
He needs to speak with Tsukauchi immediately.
“Excuse me,” a voice suddenly says, “Mister hero, sir?”
He looks up to see a young boy — possibly around the same age as Izuku — standing in the doorway of the office. His dark brown hair is hanging low over his face, his eyes holding the meanest look he’s ever seen in a child.
“What can I do for you kid?” Shouta hops down from the desk and beckons the child closer.
“Were you talking to Mr. Morinozuka about Midoriya?” he asks loudly, almost as if he’s accusing the hero of gossiping.
“Is Midoriya a friend of yours?” he swats down to be eye level with the boy.
“He’s nice to me,” he nods, suddenly looking up, dead in Shouta’s eyes, “I didn’t see him at all on Thursday. He never came to class.”
And the other shoe drops.
He doesn’t want to be here anymore; he’s cold, he’s tired and he’s hungry. Izuku really hopes that they’ll let him go home soon. He misses Kacchan, but more importantly, he misses his mom.
He misses his mom so much it hurts.
With nothing but his thoughts to keep him company, he slips back into his memories.
His mom was always home when he got back from school. She always had a glass of chocolate milk waiting for him. She knew that school wasn’t easy for Izuku, even if he refused to tell her how bad it actually got sometimes, but she made it all better once he stepped through the door.
She was always there to kiss and tend to the bumps and bruises he got from the other kids, without asking who hurt him. She always made sure he was safe at home, no one could get to him when his mother was around.
On the days that were really bad, she always knew before Izuku said anything. She would never make him talk about it, it’s not like the child would — he didn’t want to worry his mother even more.
She would wordlessly hand him his chocolate milk and make him an extra special snack before they would cook dinner together. They would be laughing and dancing around the kitchen while doing so. Then they would cuddle up on the couch and watch hero movies as they ate.
Together they would come up with hero names that Izuku could use once he got into UA, declaring that Izuku would be the first quirkless hero. They would dress in their matching pajamas and run around the small apartment playing ‘hero.’
The game always ended with Izuku defeating the invisible villain and saving his mother in the nick of time from their evil clutches. She would fall into his arms, praising and thanking him for always saving her. Saying she knew she would also count on her hero.
But even after all of his training with his mom, he couldn’t save her when it really counted.
She ended up falling victim to a real villain attack and Izuku wasn’t there to be her hero like he always wanted to be. Like he always planned to be.
He had failed her. And now she’s gone.
She’s never home first, she never gives him chocolate milk, she never makes him special snacks, they never cook dinner together while goofing off, they never watch hero movies together, they never come up with any more hero names, they never wear their matching pajamas, and they never play ‘hero.’
He can never save his mother again.
His memories shift to the last one he has of his mother.
He had said goodbye to her that morning, with a kiss and promise to be home on time from school so they could make goodies for her to take to work the next day for all her colleagues.
Goodies that were never made.
Izuku had heard that there was a villain attack in the city. All the kids were talking about it at school after a teacher had played news clips during a class. Izuku knew that it had been handled by All Might himself.
Of course, it had to be All Might that saved the day. But he ruined it at the same time.
Izuku walked home that day like normal, but a little more of a pep in his step. He always knew that when the two of them made goodies, they always made enough for Izuku to have some. His mother’s sweets were his favorite.
But when he got home, everything was cold and dark.
She wasn’t there.
There was no chocolate milk waiting for him.
He just assumed that she was running late, he was excited to tease her that he finally beat her home. With a golden opportunity, Izuku made two glasses of chocolate milk — one for himself and one for his mom. So she could go through the same treatment he did when he came home.
The glasses went warm.
She still wasn’t home.
Izuku, in a panic, tried to call her but came up with no answer. He ran over to the television and turned on the news, worried that there had been an accident.
But the only thing being broadcasted was the villain attack from hours before. There had been a lot more collateral damage due to the clashing of All Might’s powerful quirk and the criminal.
It was only then that Izuku realized where the attack had taken place, in the heart of the city, right near where his mother worked.
Her building and the surrounding area were completely leveled. The news reporter said that rescue heroes were still on the scene, hours after the actual attack. They were digging for survivors and had yet to come across any.
The child's heart had dropped to the floor.
No survivors had been found yet.
But he didn’t lose hope, his mother was a fighter. She could walk in the door at any second. She could be hurt, but she would be alive.
Izuku readied the house for her eventual arrival, getting together all the medical supplies and piling it in the living room, not really sure what she would need.
He got all her favorite movies and neatly stacked them up so she could pick whatever she wanted. He laid out her favorite pajamas so she could get comfortable as soon as possible, and he pulled leftovers from the fridge for them to eat for dinner, knowing that she wasn’t going to want to cook tonight.
Hours passed, but she never came home.
Izuku sat in the living room, surrounded by everything he had gotten for her, only making him feel more alone. He slept on the couch that night, not wanting to miss the second she walked in.
Hours turned into days.
He kept the living room as is, knowing that as soon as he put all the supplies away, he would need it.
But he never touched any of it.
She never came home.
Izuku never told anyone, no one ever came to him and told him that she had died. No police officer, no pro hero — Izuku was really alone. It had taken weeks before the child was finally able to accept the reality.
A reality that he kept hidden from everyone, even Kacchan. It was too much for him to tell others about, he guesses that for a while he still held onto a sliver of hope. Hope that, eventually, everything would be okay.
The green-haired child is snapped back into reality when he tastes salt mixing in with the familiar and bitter metallic aroma that refuses to go away.
He’s still in this dark and freezing room, not knowing when he’ll be let out.
And he still misses his mother.
He crawls helplessly over to his yellow backpack, not trying to stop the tears from flowing down his face. Grabbing his small water bottle, he aims for his mouth, grimacing when he opens it a little too wide. Letting a limited amount of water pour into his tongue, he stops quickly.
He needs to be careful about how much he drinks, he needs to save as much as he can until he knows when he’s being let out.
He just hopes it will be soon.
Izuku wants to go home.
“I’m home,” Shouta calls out through his apartment, kicking off his boots and hanging up his capture weapon.
“Hi, Shou,” his husband appears in an instant, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, his long blond hair half up in a bun rather than styled like a cockatoo, “How’d it go?”
“As expected,” the tired man states bluntly.
Shouta hasn’t put this much over time into hero work like this in a while, but he could care less. Something about this case specifically is begging the man to keep looking, that if he trusts his instincts he will get the answers he’s looking for.
And he’s learned a long time ago to trust his instincts.
“Sounds like a step in the right direction though,” Hizashi hums, wrapping his arms around his partner, savoring the warmth and presence, “Why don’t you go take a shower to collect yourself. We can talk more after.”
It’s times like this that Shouta is thankful for Hizashi, not knowing how he would be handling without him. His husband already knows that this case is taking a large amount of his time, energy, and thoughts. All the while, his partner is trying his best to soothe the stressed man.
Hizashi isn’t immediately forcing every piece of information out of him, as soon as the man walks in the door — even though he feels just as connected to the case; sitting quietly in the background but close enough to hear when Shouta talks to Tsukauchi on the phone, digging through file after file that has anything potentially concerning Midoriya and listening to Shouta ramble about probable leads.
But he never presses, instead, he waits for Shouta to let it all out when he feels comfortable, when he feels like he’s had enough time to process the information himself. The voice hero finds nothing wrong with that, trusting his husband to come to him when he’s ready.
Hizashi is letting him know that he’s there and ready to listen with small actions. Making sure that there’s always fresh coffee in the pot, no matter what time of day it is. Making sure he’s getting warm meals on time, gentle whispers that he needs some sleep if he wants to function properly, and picking up on the lesson plans Shouta can’t get himself to finish.
He’ll be sure to thank him when this case is finally over.
So twenty minutes later, Shouta finds himself sitting on the couch with Hizashi’s head in his lap. A quiet nature documentary on as he runs his hands through the surprisingly soft blond locks of his partner. His body tensing randomly as he soaks up the information of the day, getting a knee squeeze in reassurance as he gains the courage to put his thoughts into words.
Bucky is perched on the cushion next to him, gently nudging against his leg and yowling for attention; seeming to be upset that both of his owners are too caught up in their own heads to pet him.
“I’ve spoken with Tsukauchi already,” Shouta says softly, not really knowing where else to start.
Hizashi hums in acknowledgment, urging him to continue talking, “We’re raiding Aldera tomorrow morning.”
The man in his lap turns his head away from the television to give him his full attention, “Of course he fought me on it, like he has been doing this whole case. Saying they’ve already searched the grounds. But I don’t know, something just isn’t right.”
“I know the work you’ve been putting into finding little Midoriya, but we have to remember that Tsukauchi is just doing his job,” Hizashi grabs the hand that isn’t currently tangled in his hair, “He isn’t a pro hero, there’s only so much influence he has in the system and what he can pull for you.”
“I know,” Shouta grumbles, hating that the man is right.
“But it’s also good that you’re trusting your instincts on this. Do whatever you think is right, Shou.”
The underground hero nods slightly before continuing, “I asked for Hound Dog and Midnight to be there specifically, along with whoever Tsukauchi wants to bring.”
Hizashi nods encouragingly, as Shouta’s next words get caught in his throat he begins to fiddle with a bracelet on the hand he’s holding, “And I was also thinking that my kick-ass pro hero husband with incredibly stylish hair would also come along. Since we all know this means as much to him as it does to me.”
A huge grin breaks out onto his husband’s face, and he bolts up, “Of course I’ll go with you, Shou. Whatever you need, I’m there.”
Shouta’s shoulders sag in relief, not quite sure why he was so nervous to ask him to come along in the first place — this is his husband we’re talking about, this man is known to have a soft spot for children. And knowing that this specific child they’re all looking for that has probably been through hell in the past week bothers both of the heroes immensely.
“Thanks ‘Zashi,” he says softly as the man lowers himself back down into his lap.
“We’re going to find him, Shou.”
6 a.m. on Friday morning, Shouta is standing with his husband, the group of heroes, and detectives, all waiting on the signal to begin searching the school.
Shouta’s feelings are similar to that of starting a big mission. The anticipation builds up in his chest, the what-if thoughts circling his mind, and the idea of failure isn’t helping the unsettled coffee in his stomach.
He knows that the investigation has been extremely repetitive since he joined, re-interviewing everyone in question and now searching the school again.
He’s getting desperate, if this leads to nothing, what is he going to do next? Retracing the police’s steps has gotten him nowhere so far, what’s going to be the next thing they do? They were at a loss when they called him on this case, he can’t lead them into another dead end.
But he can tell that the information isn’t adding up correctly, this has to give him something to work with. He can feel it.
He keeps telling himself that this is what he should be doing, that he’s taking the right steps, but he can’t help the feeling of dread settling into his bones.
180 hours.
It’s been 180 hours since Midoriya Izuku has gone missing.
If they can’t find the answers they’re looking for here, Shouta isn’t sure where to turn next. He’s running out of options.
And he hates when he runs out of options.
He silently latches onto Hizashi’s hand for support, not needing to wait a second before he receives a squeeze of reassurance. Both of them are on edge, praying that they at least find something. If not the boy, then fucking something .
Taking a deep breath, Shouta tries to compose and control his wired emotions. He needs to push these negative thoughts away, he can’t go into this already thinking he’s at a dead end. Starting this search with a pessimistic result in mind is only going to land him there faster.
“Okay everyone, listen up,” Tsukauchi calls from the front of the group, “Hound Dog, Mic, you two will lead Group A. You all take the back entrance to the school. Midnight, Eraser, you will lead Group B and will start at the front. Meet up in the middle, leave nothing unturned. Group C, you all are with me searching the grounds and the extracurricular buildings. Call in anything that is suspicious. Let’s find this kid.”
No one wastes any time breaking into their assigned groups and places. The grip on his hand tightens for a millisecond before his husband lets go and walks away without another word.
Shouta takes another breath, Midnight and the other officers surround him, a tense and determined atmosphere taking over the air. They wait silently for the pro hero to give them specific orders.
“Alright,” he addresses his crowd, “groups of two or three in each classroom, check every door and desk — property damage be damned. Look for anything and everything. Alert anything that makes you look twice, I don’t care if it turns out to be nothing. We don’t have any time to waste, we need to be as diligent as possible.”
Various nods and affirmations are called out to him in response, as he walks up to the front door. He waits for everyone to pair up and gain confidence before taking different stances around the entrance.
“Go,” Shouta encourages, pushing open the large metal doors.
The groups immediately huddle through the door frame, the pairs slowly breaking off to go into the next available classroom.
Midnight sticks close to him as he enters the nearest unchecked room. He beelines for the closets, ripping open the doors and shoving all the unmarked papers, looking for any sign that could point him to Midoriya.
He flips desks, tears through teacher’s papers, raids closets, just looking for anything .
Shouta feels his frustration drive him as he tears apart the room, leaving drawers open, papers on the floor, desks out of order. He has half a mind to rip out the ceiling panels just for the hell of it.
He wants to destroy this place and any pride it may have. He wants to get to the base of their secrets and burn it to the ground. He wants to rip the school system out from the roots for being so careless. For letting a twelve-year-old child slip through their fingers. For crushing and treating a small soul so poorly.
Based on how the teachers spoke of the child, he has an idea as to why they did what they did.
Someone’s quirk status should not dictate the treatment they receive — whether it is something flashy and heroic, or considered ‘villainous,’ or not having one at all. Having a quirk is not something a person can control, it is not right to give punishments or to degrade people based on biology.
After this, Shouta will slash apart anyone who so much as sneezes wrong in Midoriya’s direction.
Five classrooms later, Shouta’s found nothing and his patience is wearing thin. He’s seconds away from shredding the floor and splitting the doors off hinges. The only thing stopping him is Midnight and her small encouraging words to shove him out of each cleared room.
His groups begin to crowd in the halls, needing to discuss which hall to go down to search next. His breathing is heavy, he can feel his logical thoughts slowly pulling away from him and his hair is slightly lifting from his shoulders.
Suddenly, Hizashi's voice breaks through the intercom in his ear.
“Eraser,” the call is urgent, sending a sick jolt down his spine, “Far-left wing, room 115. We’ve got something.”
Without hesitation or looking to see if anyone follows him, Shouta takes off down the hall.
They found something, it isn’t Midoriya but it’s something. And that’s the best he can hope for right now.
He feels sick to his stomach as the adrenaline rushing through his body, making him regret only having a cup of coffee for breakfast. He should have listened to Hizashi about eating something along with it.
'Now is not the time for that,’ he yells to himself, ‘Focus. And find Midoriya.’
His eyes scan the room numbers as he goes, trying to navigate the maze of a school. He thanks his stars that he remembered to memorize the layout of the building last night.
He skids as he takes a hard left, to Hizashi’s location.
111
113
115
Throwing himself into the room, he sees Hizashi and Hound Dog using a similar method of searching that he had been using in the classrooms. Desks are turned over, shoved haphazardly around the room, papers all over the floor, any and all doors open and thrown in disarray.
“Hound Dog can smell something,” Hizashi whips around to face him, his eyes wild, “But we can’t figure out where it’s coming from.”
Hound Dog’s nose is high in the air, paying no attention to his surroundings as he wanders around the room.
“You can’t tell where the source is?” Shouta presses urgently as he steps into the classroom.
“No, the whole room is drenched in the scent, there’s no way to tell,” Hound Dog growls, still not looking at him.
Shouta joins in searching the perimeter. He figures that the two other heroes have looked in the most obvious places, so he focuses on following along the walls looking for anything that will give in, searching the closets for any latches.
Based on their results so far, if Midoriya is close by, there is no way that he would be kept out in the open. As much as it weighs heavily on Shouta’s heart, the kid is probably hidden somewhere.
He searches every dent, crevice and creak in the walls and on the floor. None of the heroes have found anything, leading to them all becoming frantic.
Goddamn it, they’re so close.
Where is he?
Just as Shouta is about to snap, a loud growl sounds through the room.
“Here!” Hound Dog calls over, standing in front of a relatively large air vent lining the floor behind the teacher’s desk, “The scent is coming into the room from here.”
Hizashi rushes over, gaining his footing first, ripping the vent out of the wall with a single pull.
Shouta drops to his knees and peers into the narrow space. Yanking a flashlight out of one of his pockets, he clicks it on to survey the vent.
There’s nothing special about it at first glance. It’s all lined with metal as cold air flows out, making Shouta shiver and bury his face further into his capture weapon. But as he squints, he can see the vent continues on for another six feet before he notices there’s a small diversion off the path.
Leaning back on his feet, keeping his eyes on the vent in front of him he calls out to the people in the room but also through his intercom, “There’s a small trail leading off from the ventilation, I’m going to follow it.”
Tsukauchi comes back through, “Be careful Eraser, we’re heading that way now.”
“Be careful, Shou,” Hizashi puts in quietly from behind him.
Shouta shuffles forward, holding the flashlight in his mouth, and crawls on his hands and knees into the vent. It’s only slightly big enough to encase his frame, giving off the terrible feeling of being claustrophobic. The small pathway is freezing to the touch, making him hate what he’s about to find.
He quickly comes up to the off-route passage. He finds metal stairs leading further down, almost like it’s dropping underneath the school.
“There are stairs,” he speaks into the intercom, shifting the flashlight into his hands, “I’m going down. Be ready for anything.”
He doesn’t wait for a response as he begins the slow descent, the ceiling starts to lengthen enough for him to stand at full height. But the width shrinks significantly as well. He grips his capture weapon in one hand, feeling his knuckles going white around his only light source.
The farther down he goes, he feels his adrenaline and hopes fall lower.
What in the world could this vent be hiding? He also doesn't want to know the answer.
It could be nothing. Shouta could literally be walking down into an old cellar that the school never uses anymore. Or down a path that wouldn’t put him anywhere closer to finding Midoriya.
But even if this comes up to be nothing, there's no way in hell he’s not going to at least check.
After what feels like an eternity of exponentially increasing doubt, Shouta sees that the rest of the way is blocked off and he feels his gut drop. A high metal wall standing in his way.
A dead end.
No. This can’t be it. There has to be something here, it can’t just stop. If it does, why would Hound Dog have smelled something from down here? He might just have to follow the vents all around the school until he finds the source, and that sounds like a pain within itself.
He groans internally, not wanting to believe that it was all some fluke. Possibly a dead animal in the vents, or the scent is being filtered from somewhere else in the building.
Before he can continue to feel frustrated at the lack of answers, he notices a small latch at the top right of the wall.
A door.
His stomach creeps back into his throat and his hands fumble as he hastily unhooks the lock and pulls open the heavy metal door. It creaks and groans noisily against the floor as he shines his flashlight into the newfound room.
The room is nearly empty, with more chilled metal lining the walls, floor, and ceiling. It’s small, seeming to be a panic room as he previously guessed, most likely to be used during villain attacks. But it doesn’t seem to be in use, considering it would be difficult to get a hoard of students down here.
He doesn’t see any source of lighting other than his controlled beam. As he drags it around the area, he notices a thin layer of, what he assumes is, dust floating around, enough to make his allergies want to act up.
He scans every inch before his breathing stops when the beam comes across a small dark lump in the far corner.
He’s completely frozen in place as the unknown pile begins to shift. In a panic, Shouta readies his capture weapon, pulling a few inches off his neck as it sits up and turns to face him.
Midoriya Izuku is rubbing his eyes and looking around wildly for what has disturbed him. A small yellow backpack is bundled up on the floor in front of him like a makeshift pillow. A nearly empty water bottle and a bento box are close by.
Off to the side, nestled in the corner farthest from the child, Shouta notices a metal bucket. He can only assume that it’s a shitty version of a human litter box — it’s probably the only reason the child’s clothes are dry.
The boy's eyes widen as they lock on him and Shouta has to resist the urge to burn down the school with his bare hands and hunt every teacher that would ever put a child in here.
Miidoriya is an absolute mess, dressed in his disheveled black school uniform with his hair sticking up wildly. He’s shivering violently with dirt and blood covering all of the visible skin on him and a muzzle over his mouth .
A goddamn muzzle.
On a child.
A muzzle that has probably been on him for 180 hours.
The boy lets out a whimper that breaks Shouta from his shock. Midoriya curls more into himself, looking to be terrified that Shouta was sent down here to continue with his torture. He slides his dull yellow backpack in front of him, only allowing the hero to see his messy green hair and fearful eyes.
“Midoriya Izuku? I’m the pro hero Eraserhead, I’m going to get you out of here.”
He enters the room carefully, not wanting to scare the boy more than he already is. He speaks gently to him in reassurance, clicking on his intercom as he does so to alert the others but not raise any unwanted suspicion from the child.
But as soon as he gets within arms reach of the kid, Midoriya throws the backpack away from himself and scrambles into Shouta’s arms.
He doesn’t hesitate to grip the child, half burying him in his capture weapon while trying to mind his injuries and muzzle. Midoriya is cold to the touch, shivering even more in his hold. He grabs the discarded backpack without a second glance at the other items and quickly makes his way out of the room.
He swiftly walks back the way he came, holding Midoriya close to him and hiding his face. Once he makes it back to the original vent path, he puts the child in his lap and scoots himself the rest of the way out.
As soon as he slides back into the classroom, Hizashi is at his side barking orders to the surrounding officers and heroes; but not loud enough to scare the kid and controlling his quirk.
Shouta sits on the floor, relishing in the fact that he’s holding the previously missing child. Midoriya says nothing but refuses to let go of his shirt as people are bustling and yelling around the two of them, trying to check him for injuries and surveying the muzzle.
There’s word that an ambulance is waiting outside. Hizashi gently cuts the muzzle off the boy's face while speaking soothingly to them.
People are yelling everywhere, hands are constantly touching them both, but Shouta’s only reccurring thought is,
‘We found him. He’s going to be okay.’